“What we have to consider now is how best to reach Ferguson with an express instantly,” his Lordship was saying.  “This rising of the over-mountain men is likely to prove a serious matter—­not only for the major, but for the king’s cause in the two provinces.  Lacking positive orders to the contrary, Ferguson will fight—­we all know that; and if he should be defeated ’twill hopelessly undo his work among the border loyalists and set us back another twelvemonth.”

“Then your Lordship will order him to come in with what he has?” said a voice which I knew for Colonel Tarleton’s.

“Instanter, had I a sure man to send.”

“Pshaw!  I can find you a hundred amongst the late royalist recruits.”  ’Twas young Lord Rawdon who said this.

“Damn them!” said his Lordship shortly; “I would sooner trust this new aide of mine.  He comes straight from the major and can find his way back again.”

Tarleton laughed.  “I fear we shall never agree upon him, my Lord.  I know not how he has made his peace with you, but I do assure you he is as great a rascal as ever went unhung.  ’Tis true, as you say, I did not go into the particulars; but were Captain Stuart or Sir Francis Falconnet here, either of them would convince your Lordship in a twinkling.”

There was silence for a little space following the colonel’s denunciation of me, and then my Lord broke it to say:  “I may not be so credulous as you think, Colonel.  Rebel spy or true-blue loyalist, he is safe enough for the present.  In the meantime in this matter of reaching Ferguson we may make good use of him.”

“In what manner, your Lordship?” asked one whose voice I did not recognize.

“He has come straight from Major Ferguson, as I say; and, loyalist or rebel, he can find his way back to Gilbert Town.”

“But you’ll never be trusting him with despatches!” said Lord Rawdon.

“There is no need to trust him.  He can be given the despatches with some hint of their purport, and of how much the king’s cause will profit by their safe delivery.”

Again a silence fell upon the group around the lawyers’ table, and then some one—­’twas Major Hanger, as I thought—­said:  “’Tis an unread riddle for me as yet, my Lord.”

Cornwallis laughed.  “Where are your wits this morning, gentlemen?  If he be loyal and true, the despatches will go safe enough.  If, on the other hand, he be a rebel and a spy, he will doubtless tamper with them; but in that case he will none the less ride straight enough to Major Ferguson’s headquarters in the West.”

“H’m; your Lordship is still too deep for me,” said Tarleton’s second in command.  “If he be a rebel and a spy, why, in God’s name, should he carry your Lordship’s letters to any but some rag-tag colonel of his own kidney?”

My Lord laughed again.  “Truly, Major, you should go to a dame’s school and learn diplomacy.  If we tell him beforehand what our object is, how could any rebel of them all defeat it more surely than by going to Ferguson with a garbled message that would make him stand and fight a losing battle?”